


Talk Me Down

by kxsumis



Category: Homestuck
Genre: College AU, Developing Relationship, Highschool AU, M/M, Soulmate AU, Unrequited Love, the world is black and white until you meet your soulmate basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-07-18 20:44:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7330036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kxsumis/pseuds/kxsumis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started in the Fall, the trees had begun fading into fiery, vibrant oranges and yellows. It smells like rain and cigarette smoke. The sun kisses the horizon at an earlier hour now, the sky melts into orange, gold, and red hues. The air is soft and light, and it kisses your face with a cool, beautiful familiarity. </p><p>--</p><p>An AU in which the world is black and white until you meet your soulmate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [supernovaniall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernovaniall/gifts).



_I wanna sleep next to you_

_But that's all I wanna do right now_

* * *

 

It’s basically common knowledge in the world that everyone sees the world in complete monochrome. That is, until they stumble upon their soulmate.

Your name is Dirk Strider, and you’ve learned a lot about soulmates as you’ve grown up. You’ve heard so many beautiful stories about finding your soulmate, and about how the world explodes into color the second you lay your eyes on your’s. You’d heard stories about an invisible Red String Of Fate, which you liked the idea of, but you had no clue what “red” looked like yet.  

You’d heard the story of the Greek god, Zeus, who when he created the first humans, he shaped them to have two heads, four arms, four legs. They were giants roaming the Earth, and Zeus decided it wasn’t right, so he split the humans apart. Thus, humans spend their lives wandering the world trying to find their other halves, their soulmates.

The storybooks are nice and all, but you think they’re utter bullshit. You don’t necessarily mind having to see in blacks, whites, and greys, but it can be obnoxious at times due to the fact that all you ever wore on your face was dark sunglasses, despite Roxy’s constant teasing.

You know your soulmate exists, somewhere out there, but you sort of fear meeting them. What if they don’t like you? What if you’re not what they expect? Every time you bring things like this up to your brothers or your friends, they say things like, “Don’t be stupid, Dirk. They’re your soulmate. They’re supposed to love everything about you.”

At times, you fear that you’ll never find your soulmate. Other times, you don’t care. When you were younger, you relished in the fact that your other half was out there, waiting for you. You constantly wondered what kinds of things they loved doing, or what time it was where they lived, or what they looked like. You thought a lot about what they looked like.

You always went up to your Bro, asking him all kinds of questions about your soulmate. He never found his soulmate, due to a car accident that ended his life when you were sixteen. You remember the way he smiled at you and ruffled your hair. “Don’t worry, ‘lil man,” He’d say. “Your soulmate is out there, somewhere.”

You are now nineteen-years-old, at university in New York studying for a degree in robotics.  You live in an apartment with your little brother Dave, who is a sophomore in high school. For the most part, he keeps to himself, but he can still be a little pain in the ass. You still loved him, though. Ever since Bro died when Dave was thirteen, you took him under your wing, working your ass off to ensure he’d be fed every night and have everything he needed for school, and more. Now that you were becoming so successful in the robotic industry, that wasn’t too hard anymore.

You’ve always been considered some kind of prodigy, ever since you were in elementary school, back when you lived in Texas. Your brain always worked faster and better than all of the rest of the kids’. The school offered you advanced level homework and independent study, but it was never enough to keep you satisfied. When you were in eighth grade, you went to a lecture at the local technology expo about robotics and engineering, and you decided that it was the perfect fit for you.

Since then, you’d been working tirelessly to improve your coding and engineering skills: taking extra, advanced classes. Taking coding courses online. By your freshman year of highschool, you’d become internationally renowned. You’d won multiple national robotics competitions; your first one ever leading you to victory with the help of your rap battling bot _Squarewave_ . Soon after that, you began many more projects, which eventually led to a more advanced version of _Squarewave_ called _Sawtooth_ . (But of course, _Sawtooth_ could never replace _Squarewave_ . _Squarewave_ was the shit.) Sawtooth assisted you to many more victories in competitions around the country-and even some outside of it. After three years of using _Sawtooth_ and _Squarewave_ in competitions, you expanded your horizons and programmed a more advanced, intelligent piece of technology: _AR_ , who soon became more commonly known as _HAL_.

Hal was, in short, a sentient AI you programmed with a personality based on your own. Well, your thirteen-year-old personality. There didn’t have to be multiple current Dirks running around. You could talk to Hal on your computer’s chat client, Pesterchum, and through your shades. Usually, he’s turned off on your shades, however, because you didn’t feel like dealing with his obnoxious, red text 24/7. Anyway, Hal was a huge hit in the world of robotics, and you won even _more_ competitions with him as the star of your show. Engineers and programmers were begging for your technology and process to program Hal, but you always turned them down. You didn’t feel like having the technology falling into the wrong hands and having some crazy _Transformers_ shit go down. Hal was sort of an asshole, but he _was_ you, and the judges and observers got a huge kick out of him.

You still haven’t met your soulmate. You’re starting to wonder what the fuck is taking them so long.

You and Roxy were in the same boat for quite some time, before she called you nearly in tears talking about how she’d found her, and about how lovely and beautiful she was. Roxy’s soulmate _is_ lovely and beautiful. Her name is Jane, and she’s basically all your best friend could ever ask for. Of course, you’re more than ecstatic for Roxy, but at the back of your mind you can’t shake the feeling that you’re extremely jealous of her. You and Roxy stay up on the phone until unholy hours of the morning, now that she moved away from New York to Washington to stay with Jane.

“How are things?” You’d asked her once, sitting up on your kitchen counter.

“Thing’s are fuckin’ great, Dirk.” You could hear Roxy’s smile in her voice.

“I’m glad.” You said quietly, looking out the window at the city. You live in an apartment building, rather high up in the air. One of your favorite things to do at the end of the day is sit up on the counter, looking off at the city below you. It makes you feel powerful, important, and the constant flickering of the city’s lights remind you of a sea of stars.

“What about you?” Roxy asked.

You hesitated. “Things are okay.”   
“You’ll find them, Dirk.” Roxy replied, immediately picking up on your hesitation. Roxy knows you far too well, and you don’t know why you think your lies will go over her head.

“What was it like?” You asked, ignoring her previous statement. You don’t want to think about the possibility of not meeting your soulmate. “When you met her, I mean.”

Roxy let out a soft, content sigh. “It was like...hearing a song that has been stuck in your head for a long time, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Or, like, walking into a house for the first time, but feeling like you’ve lived there your entire life. You remember hanging each picture frame, placing each piece of furniture…” She sighed again. “It’s cool.”

You tap your foot against the counter, nodding. Your eyes are still trained on the city, and you wonder if they’re out there in the sea of busy, important people, among the bright, flashing lights.

“And color?” You ask quietly. “What’s color like?”

“Color is...amazing, Dirky. It’s totally amazing.” She said softly.

You nodded to yourself again, tearing your eyes away from the window. “I think I’m gonna turn in.”

“All right, goodnight, Dirk.”

“Night.”

Months passed since that conversation, and your soulmate is still nowhere to be found. You know you’re still young and all that jazz, but most of the time, people find their soulmates before they turn twenty, and your birthday is coming up in two months.

You’d just about lost hope. Oh well, you’d die alone in your apartment, slaving away over random mechanics and work, wandering aimlessly just like the giants Zeus created at the beginning of time.

And then you met him.

 

It started in the Fall, the trees had begun fading into fiery, vibrant oranges and yellows. It smells like rain and cigarette smoke. The sun kisses the horizon at an earlier hour now, the sky melts into orange, gold, and red hues. The air is soft and light, and it kisses your face with a cool, beautiful familiarity.

You’ve just gotten off of the phone with Roxy, and you were rushing to the coffee shop by your apartment complex to get something to drink before you had to go to university for the day.

“Don’t be so emo, Dirk.” Roxy had said, and you could see her rolling her eyes like she always did when you said something she thought was stupid. “You’ll find them. It’s literally meant to be! Just like Romeo and Juliet or some shit. What would Juliet be without Romeo?”

“Alive,” You reply, looping your scarf around your neck and grabbing your laptop case.

You heard Roxy sigh, and you grab your sunglasses, sliding them onto your face as you walk out the door and began your trek down the many stairs leading down to the sidewalk. There is an elevator, but for some reason, small, boxed in spaces really freak you out. Jane said that maybe it was because of something that happened to you in a past life, but you don't believe in shit like that.

“I gotta get to class, I’ll talk to you later, Dirky.” Roxy says finally.

“All right.” You hang up the phone and slide into your back pocket with a sigh. You look around once you got to the street, taking in your surroundings just like you did every morning on your walk to class.

The sky was dull. The trees were dull. The street signs were dull. The bright lights of the city were dull. Everything was dull, and it wasn’t only due to your pointed sunglasses. You're used to it, used to the melancholy feel the entire world had to it due to your current state. At this point, seeing everything in monochrome didn’t really upset you. The air is cool, and the sun hides behind the clouds, as if it is afraid to show itself off to the world.

You walk into the coffee shop, greeted with a gust of warm air and the bright clanging of bells against the door. The air smells like freshly ground coffee beans. The sudden warmth causes you to shudder after walking out in the chilled, autumn air. You stand in the line and wait, examining the menu from behind your shades. You settled on getting a chocolate mocha.

Once it is your turn, you order and wait for your name to be called for you to pick up your drink. Once it is, you grab your order and sit down at a table in the corner of the room, fishing your pocket for your earbuds. You plug them into your phone and turn on some music to tune out the loud talking and other noises in the shop. It is only 7:00-you’ve gotten an earlier start than you originally anticipated-you have some time to chill before you have to rush to university.

You must’ve been there for fifteen minutes, scrolling through your Twitter, listening to some sick mixes you’ve been working on the past few weeks.

Then you hear a voice break through your music, and something about it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand straight up, sends shivers dancing up and down your spine. You slowly take your earbuds off and set them on the table before looking up at the source of the voice.

Suddenly the world explodes all around you, and you can’t quite tell what’s happening. Color seeps into the world, rolls down your field of vision like oil on a canvas. You've never seen any of these colors, but in the back of your mind, you know exactly what they are. The boy’s hair. _Dark brown._ His skin. _Tan._ His scarf. _Dark green._ His eyes. _Green, like the forest._ Holy shit _. His eyes are the same color as the forest._ You have some trouble wrapping your mind around that.

You blink slowly as the boy comes into better focus. He’s looking at you oddly, and a smile begins to form on his lips when he locks eyes with you.

“You all right there, old bean?” He asks you. His voice drips with a strong English accent. Oh fuck. You want to walk out of the cafe and scream into the fucking void. You just met your soulmate and he probably thinks you’re insane.

“I...Yeah, I’m cool. Yeah.” You say, in the most uncool way you could’ve possibly uttered the words.

The boy nods, gesturing to the seat across from you. “It’s kind of packed in here,” He says. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

You shake your head, trying your best not to stare at your surroundings like a toddler. You glance out the window. The sky is a deep grey color you can’t describe; it looks as if someone mixed grey and blue paint together. Is that what it always looks like?

The boy examines you further, and he laughs lightly. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” You feel a sort of panic boil up at the pit of your stomach, and you stare at him. Why doesn’t he seem as freaked out as you are? Did he not see the colors?

“I’m okay.” You say shortly, defensively. Fuck, Strider, you’re rusty at this sort of thing. You study the boy in front of you. He’s short, but you assume he’s well-built under the coat he’s wearing. He has tan skin and deep, emerald eyes that contrast with each other perfectly. He has dark brown hair that falls over his forehead and swoops to the side in a naturally windswept manner. He has sharp, yet soft features. A button-like nose, a sharp jaw that your eyes follow to where it’s hidden behind his scarf.

“Just had a long night,” You add. You try not to sigh to yourself, because you know you’re getting nervous which means your obnoxious Texan lilt was surfacing.

“I know the feeling,” The boy says. He doesn’t seem to care about your accent. “College has been totally kicking my metaphorical ass. I moved here assuming it’d be a bit easier, but Christ on a cracker, was I mistaken.” He takes a sip from his drink, and you follow his every move intently from behind your shades.

“Where are you from?” You ask. Good, finally getting back into the swing of things with some small talk. You internally pray you don’t say something stupid.

“England,” The boy replies with a smile. He gasps to himself. “Oh my gosh, I apologize sincerely. I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Jake English.”

He offers his hand out to shake. Who even shakes hands anymore? This guy, apparently.

You take it, and he shakes your hand firmly.

“I’m Dirk.” You reply. ”Dirk Strider.”

“Dirk Strider,” Jake repeats your name with a soft hum, the words falling from his mouth smoothly, like honey. Like they were meant to be in his mouth.

You nod, taking a sip from your drink, trying to act as nonchalant as possible, but you’re probably failing miserable. You know that this guy probably thinks you’re totally weird, but you can’t really blame. You’re just relived you decided against wearing your Rainbow Dash shirt today, that definitely would’ve raised some questions. You didn’t want to make a bad impression on your soulmate.

_Soulmate._ The word swims through your mind, filling your head with countless questions and thoughts.

“I like it,” Jake says finally, bringing you back to reality. He’s looking at you with a hint of curiosity in those forest eyes of his, and he raps his fingers softly against the table.

“Do you?” You ask, which probably sounded weird, but you're too caught up with staring at the stranger in front of you to think too much about clever things to say. That really pisses you off, because Striders are always clever, and never allow themselves to get too nervous or disoriented - especially not over cute boys with English accents who are most definitely their soulmates. Sigh.

“I do!” Jake says excitedly. “It’s like a name you’d hear in a _James Bond_ film,” He adds, which to you is really fucking dorky but endearing at the same time. “Dirk Strider,” He says again. “It has a nice ring to it.” 

“I guess,” You shrug nonchalantly, pretending you don’t totally love the way your name rolls off of Jake’s tongue. He mentioned James Bond, which fortunately gave you another idea to instigate conversation. “Do you like movies?”

A bright smile spreads across Jake’s lips, and he nods eagerly.

“I bloody _love_ movies,” He says, his eyes brighter than the fucking sun.

“What movies do you like?” You ask, taking a sip of your coffee.

“All movies,” Jake says excitedly, and you assume that he’s just saying that.

It turns out he wasn’t just saying that, and he really has enjoyed every movie he’s seen, no matter how shitty. ‘Shitty’ may actually be an understatement to describe exactly how utterly horrendous and embarrassing Jake’s ideal movie night would be. Everything from _Ghost Rider_ to shit like _Weekend At Bernie’s_ . You usually aren’t one to judge, but holy _God._ He wouldn’t have known a good movie if it ran him the fuck over and punched him in the face simultaneously. However, you found the way he rambles on and on about his favorite films endearing, and you didn’t want to take away the brightness in his eyes. So, you continue to allow him to babble about them, occasionally making a few jabs at him just to see him get riled up and watch the light pink fade into his cheeks. _Pink._

You and Jake must’ve talked for about 25 minutes until you glance at the clock on your phone. 7:43. Oh fuck, you need to get to college. You hate being an adult, and you consider quitting for a split second.

“I’d love to hear more about your burning love for Neytiri and get into more heated debates about Nic Cage’s nonexistent acting skills, but I’m gonna be late for class,” You say. Jake’s face falls for a moment, but his regular overly-excited expression soon replaces it.

“Can I see you again, Mr. Strider?” He asks you softly, and you may or may not feel your heart flutter in your chest, like you’re some anime girl who’s senpai just noticed her. Not cool, you think. Usually, _you’re_ the senpai.

You reach into your laptop case, grabbing a notebook and a pen. You tear a page out and scribble down your chumhandle: _timaeusTestified_. Usually, someone would write down their cell number, but you never use your cell unless it was to call Roxy and Dave or check on work/school stuff. Plus, everyone uses Pesterchum, anyways.

You slide the paper across the table to him, and he grabbs it, cocking an eyebrow.

“You tell me.” You say simply. And with that, you grab your bag after stuffing the notebook back into it, grab your coffee, and spin on your heel to leave. Jake doesn’t say anything else, but when you glance over your shoulder at him, he’s reading the paper over and over again, a small smile playing his lips.

It took you a moment to completely understand what just unfolded. That was your soulmate. Jake English. Jake English is your soulmate, and he has eyes that are the same color as the forest. Holy shit. _Color._

When you walk out of the small coffee shop, it makes you do a complete double take. The sky is grey-blue, the skyscrapers surrounding you are dark greys and browns. You look down at the street, the many cars passing by are fascinating. Red, blue, yellow, silver. You may have even laughed to yourself. (But that’s really uncool.)

You begin your walk to class, trying to hurry yourself so you won’t be late and get _another_ lecture from your English professor about responsibility and expectations, which you’re very sick of. It’s not like you’re in college or anything. It’s hard for you to quicken your pace, though, because all you can do is carefully study your surroundings. The trees you pass are light oranges and yellows, brown leaves scattering the sidewalk where they have fallen. The signs on each shop you pass are bright pinks and greens and blues and yellows and pretty much any other color that is easily eye-catching. For you, on the other hand, at the moment, every color is eye-catching. And you love it. You study the people around you, their blonde or brown or black hair (and even the people with crazy-colored hair, like purple and white), their green or blue or brown eyes. Their tan, pale, and dark skin. Their bright or dull clothes. You think your favorite color is orange.

You’re distracted from the world for a moment when you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. Your heart stops mid-beat, and you quickly fumble to grab it. Your overall disorientation causes you to bump into another guy walking next to you, and he gives you a good ol’ New York, ‘ _watch where you’re goin_ ’!’

You turn your phone on, feeling your spirits fall when you see that the message is only from Dave, not Jake.

TG: out of aj  
TG: its saturday and theres no way on gods green earth that im putting pants on and going out to get some more  
TT: I’m busy.   
TG: and im not?   
TG: im busy chillin  
TG: chillin like a villian  
TG: chillin like santas reindeer up in the north pole  
TG: chillin like the iceberg that the titanic hit  
TG: chillin like a nice cool glass of aj on a summer day  


You don’t feel like dealing with more of Dave’s rambling-which he did when he was either nervous or wanted something, and it was a good strategy for annoying the shit out of you. It works 90% of the time.

TT: For the love of God.  
TT: Fine, I’ll get your stupid apple juice.  
TT: But you’re paying me back and doing laundry tonight.  
TG: theres the brother i know and love  
TG: not too pleased about having to do the laundry but its a small price to pay for a sweet glass of godly strider cider  
TG: the true elixir of life  
TT: Shut up, I have to go to class.  
TG: later bro  
TG: ill be sleeping

The day, for the most part, goes by in a blur. You’re still awestruck by meeting Jake. Your soulmate. Shit, that was still so surreal to say. Roxy has been messaging you nonstop, and she senses something is going on right off the bat. Curse the Lalonde intuition and its obnoxious accuracy. You shrug it off and change the subject until she eventually ceases asking you about it.

Jake didn’t message you all day, and it was starting to freak you out. You _had_ to be the smug cool kid as always and not even ask for his chumhandle in return. The Striders never did shit like that. The Striders always have people lining up for them, they never line up for people. You stare at your phone all through your classes, turning it on every ten minutes to see if there was a notification that you’ve missed. Nothing, every time. You know it would happen eventually; you were his soulmate. Maybe he was too nervous, or too busy. Too intimidated by your awesomeness and charm. (Fuck yeah.) Okay, no, your awesomeness and charm can tone it down for a sec, because you are  _itching_ to talk to him again. It's kind of super pathetic and lame. You never allow yourself to get this way. But, he _was_ your soulmate...so he kind of got a free pass. Even if you were a Strider.

It wasn’t until the end of the school day that you got a notification. It was 2:30 PM, and you were heading to the small market a few blocks away from your house to grab Dave’s apple juice and a new bag of Doritos.

You're just about to walk into the shop when you feel your phone vibrate. You pull it out, and practically jump for joy when you see the message that awaited you.

\-- golgothasTerror  [GT] began pestering timaeusTestified  [TT]  at 14:33 --

GT: So.  
GT: About seeing you again? 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***THIS CHAPTER IMPLIES ABUSE***

_And I wanna come home to you_

_But home is just a room full of my safest sounds_

* * *

You and Jake have been talking for about two weeks now, and things are going great. Except for the fact that he hasn’t once brought up seeing color, being your soulmate, pursuing any kind of relationship, etc. You don’t know if it’s because he’s too nervous to talk about it or if he can’t see color like you can.

Basically, you’re terrified. You don’t know if it’s possible for Jake to be your soulmate while you aren’t his. You googled it a thousand different times, asked Roxy, and each time the answer had been no. No, it’s not possible. It makes you feel a bit relieved, but at the same time, with your luck, this could be some kind of crazy phenomena that only happens once every century, and you’ll go down in history as the poor idiot who never found love. But you’re probably overthinking this, like you always do with every fucking situation.

You’ve found out a lot about Jake and his personality in the two weeks you’ve been talking to him. He’s extremely adventurous and he’s told you many stories about his travels. He will go on for hours about them, and you really don’t mind. You like sitting back at your computer and watching as the screen fills up with that familiar green text.

Jake talks about himself a lot, but again, you don’t really mind. You assume it was due to the fact that he and his grandmother lived in the English countryside, where there was a shortage of other kids for Jake to talk to. He was homeschooled by his grandmother, so he never really learned how to make friends. He grew up socially isolated, so he lacks people skills. You like learning about Jake. Plus, you prefer he does most of the talking because you aren’t exactly good at talking about yourself. You aren’t very good at talking at all, actually.

Like Jake, you weren’t much of a social butterfly in your adolescent years. Before you turned eight, you were totally a normal kid. You went to school, had friends, watched all the normal kid shows on TV: the usual. But once you were old enough, Bro decided to start “teaching you how to survive out in the world”. Or, at least, that’s how he justified what he did. You don’t think he really cared, though; he just wanted an excuse to push someone around. Because of this, you became more introverted and scared to put yourself out there. You didn’t like when people asked about bruises on your arms or random scratches you came to school sporting. From a young age, you practiced the art of becoming cold and unapproachable. You pushed all of your friends away and shaped yourself into a completely new person. That person stuck with you for the rest of your life, and it’s the reason you are the way you are now.

You’ve always been pretty good at containing your emotions when you really need to, and Dave liked to say he was, as well. At first, he really wasn’t all that great at it. But as he grew up, he’d become more skilled at it, to make sure Bro didn’t have even more things to call him a little bitch over.

It hurt you to watch. Dave was the brightest, happiest kid you’d ever met until Bro forced his ‘real world’ bullshit upon him and turned your little brother into some cold, insecure, scarred person. Dave feared simple things like crying due to Bro’s constant mind games, saying things like ‘real men don’t cry.’ Dave had completely rewired himself because of the abuse. He’d become afraid of himself. He thought (and still does) that if you’re not stoic and cool, you’re nobody. It was all Bro’s fucking fault, and you hate yourself for not being brave enough to do something about it.

You hated to admit it, but you were terrified of Bro. You wanted to stand up for Dave; and if you had, maybe you would’ve given him a chance to win his old self back. But you never did, and by the time he was thirteen, he was too far gone.

When Bro died, you didn’t cry. You didn’t really know what you felt, either. Fear for what might become of you and Dave. Relief, because the evil fucker was finally out of your life. Anger, because you never stood up to him while he was alive. You didn’t know if you were sad or depressed, because you’d learned to push those kinds of feelings away at a young age. Sadness was alien to you at this point. Your philosophy was simple. If you don’t allow yourself to feel, no one can hurt you. If you don’t allow yourself to open up, no one can get under your skin.

So you and Dave grew up-to put it simply-really fucked up. The two of you wandered from foster home to foster home for two years until you turned eighteen and you were finally eligible to be Dave’s legal guardian. You moved into your apartment with him after working your ass off at two different jobs and saving up the money you’d won at robotics competitions. Now, you’re much better off thanks to your career’s take-off.

Your high school years didn’t exactly help with your already shit social abilities, either. All you really did was sit up in your room, listen to music, and work on your robotics. That could fuck with your social skills quite a bit, you’d realized. You were never one to go to parties when you were invited, and you never dated anyone. Well, you’d had a few hook-ups, but they were, for the most part, strictly experimental. You and Roxy had hooked up once in your sophomore year after a Christmas party she dragged you to. The sex was great, of course, but you couldn’t see Roxy in that way at all.

You also experimented with dating in your sophomore year, with a kid called Caliborn. You don’t really know what you saw in him, if anything. You remember he asked to take you out on a date and you said sure because you aren’t a horrible person. He was a complete asshole. He was rude, and disrespectful, and sadistic.

You dated him for about a month until you decided you didn’t deserve the shit you got from him. He looked like a snake or something mean and reptilian. His lips curled into the ugliest fucking sneer that made you think of Satan himself. Now that you think about it, you would’ve rather dated Satan over Caliborn any day.

After that relationship crumbled, you sort of gave up in the dating department for a while. You spent even more time alone in your room, working tirelessly on your robotics. When you graduated high school in Texas, you and Dave packed up and moved to New York, where you were offered a full-ride scholarship to Marymount Manhatten.

Anyways, back to Jake.

He is brutally oblivious. He can’t tell what flirting is if it slaps him in the face. Then again, you kind of suck at flirting. You come on entirely too strong, and your attempts at charming him usually flop because you’re the most awkward person on the fucking planet. You’re honestly considering having Hal talk to him instead; maybe he won’t be so painfully artless.

Jake goes to NYU, which is around twenty-five minutes away from Marymount. It isn’t too bad; especially because your apartment is in the middle of the two campuses. Meeting up with him won’t be too hard.

The problem: you’re still too fucking scared to ask him to meet up with you again. The first thing he sent you was “So. About seeing you again?” Which, to a fucking normal person, would’ve been the perfect chance to whip out some smooth one-liner and charm the pants off of him, and score a date with him. You, on the other hand, are not normal. You are a stoic douchebag, so you replied using the usual, arrogant façade you always so easily turn to in situations such as these.

TT: I was starting to think you weren’t gonna message me.   
TT: But obviously, that was stupid of me.   
TT: I’m Dirk fucking Strider, the ultimate charmer. You just can’t stay away from me. 

You cringed as you typed it out, chewing on your lower lip. Luckily, he ended up replying and didn’t seem to be too phased by your act of utter asshole-ishness.

GT: Egad!  
GT: I thought i was putting on a great act. You totally saw right through me!  
GT: All right i will admit you are tooootally the kippers knickers strider.   
GT: Im still in utter awe. How could you have done this to me??   
GT: *Swoon* 

You know he was being sarcastic, but you couldn’t help but crack a smile. The second you got home from buying Dave’s apple juice, you set it in the kitchen and hurried to your room, closing and locking the door behind you and practically leaping to log into Pesterchum on your computer. You were immediately greeted by Hal, but you blocked him from messaging you the second you saw the red text appear on your screen.

\-- timaeusTestified  [TT] began pestering timaeusTestified  [TT]  at 14:58 --

TT: I see you’ve made a new friend.  
TT: Not now, man. 

\-- timaeusTestified  [TT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified  [TT]  at 14:59 --

You felt kind of bad, but you knew he’d get over it. He’d give you a lot of shit, but you were willing to deal with that if it meant you’d get to chat with Jake uninterrupted by his annoying antics.

The simple series of messages is what began your’s and Jake’s relationship after you met him at the coffee shop, and sometimes you read over them to make sure they were actually real. Jake English. Your soulmate. You still have trouble processing that. Ugh, he makes you disgustingly giddy.

You and Jake have been talking constantly. You’ve gotten in trouble during class for being on your phone so much. You’ve lost sleep because you and Jake stay up so late messaging back and forth. Hell, you’ve almost fucking got hit by cars and killed while walking through the busy streets of Manhattan because you’ve been looking down at your phone like a goddamn idiot.

What can you say? He’s easy as fuck to talk to, which is strange, because usually a bubbly, loud personality like his would never attract you; especially not in the intense way his does. He is absolutely fascinating, and you are completely fucking head over heels for him.

It’s the second Monday after you and Jake began talking, at one o’clock in the morning. You haven’t done anything today but attend classes, and then hurry home to log into your computer and chat with him some more.

You’re watching as the screen is flooded with his green text as he babbles on about how he’s totally gonna whoop your ass at _Halo_ when the two of you end up playing together. You’re talking in the phone with Roxy, eating some Doritos. Your knees are pulled up against your chest, and you’re wearing your most comfortable sweatpants: your fluffy Rainbow Dash ones that Dave got for you last year.

The sun set hours ago, and the city lights shine through the window, casting a very faint glow onto your desk and walls, along with your laptop’s light. The house is, for the most part, quiet, aside from your talking with Roxy and the clattering of your typing. Dave is in his room asleep. He’s been trying to get to bed earlier because he has finals this week, so you’ve been trying to turn off the TV and your loud ass music earlier in the night.

“Tell me about him,” Roxy says excitedly, even though you’ve done just that, like, ninety-times.

“I’ve already told you, Roxy. I don’t really know much else about him. We only met the one time.” You reply, reaching in to grab your Orange Fanta to take a sip.  

“But haven’t you two been chatting it up at all fuckin’ hours of the day like two overly homoromantic lovebirds in a Nicholas Sparks novel?” Roxy asks.

“Yeah, we have. But messaging on Pesterchum is different than talking and bonding in person.” Jake is done spamming you about James Cameron’s Avatar. You go to reply, holding your cell phone against your ear with your shoulder, listening to Roxy talk about how happy she is for you and about how she “ships it” and it’s “sooooo meant to beeee.”

TT: What I got from all of that: you have a creepy blue space furry kink.   
GT: Strider!! Gosh that is so weird.  
GT: It isnt a creepy blue space furry kink.  
GT: Stop spouting that catawampus bullshit.  
GT: Its simply an appreciation for american cinematic masterpieces!  
GT: James camerons avatar is certainly one.

You snort, taking another sip of Fanta.

“Dirk, are you even listening to me?” Roxy asks, and you roll your eyes as you set your drink down.

“Yeah. Jake and I are going to grow old together and get married and have a zillion babies and all that jazz.” You say.

“That’s not even what I said, and you and Jake couldn’t even have _one_ baby.” Roxy replies, huffing into the phone.

“You don’t know that. Science is truly amazing.” You reply.

“ _Dirk_ ,” Roxy whines. “You don’t even seem excited to have met him.”

“Of course I’m excited. But since when have I ever been good at showing that?” You ask, typing out your reply to Jake.

TT: You appreciate this “American cinematic masterpiece” in particular because of Neytiri’s hot, cerulean bod.

“Never,” Roxy sighs into the phone. “But I was expecting this to be different, like you’d actually show you’re feeling something rather than actin’ like the fuckin’ Mona Lisa and leaving everyone to wonder if you’re smiling or not.”

You pause for a moment, debating how exactly to reply. You can be emo, or make a joke out of it. You are excited about meeting Jake. You haven’t been this excited for something in...You haven’t been this excited for something. You just kind of suck at expressing those kinds of things, which can make you seem extremely apathetic in every situation. It’s both a blessing and a curse. You just hope it doesn’t bother Jake too much.

“Roxy, despite seemingly popular opinion, I _am_ excited. Would you like me to head over to Washington, jump onto your coffee table, strip down and twerk for you? To express my incomprehensible excitement? Because I will, if you stop nagging me.”

Roxy laughs into the phone, and you can see her shaking her head. You know that if she was with you, she’d be playfully punching your shoulder or something.

“Whatever, douchebag. I need to go to sleep, so I’ll leave you to talk to Romeo.”

“All right, I’ll chat later. Tell Jane I say hey.”

“Got’cha.”

And with that, you hang up, directing your full attention to your chat with Jake.

GT: I will admit neytiri is one of the selling factors but not only because shes quite the striking lady.   
GT: Avatar has so much action and adventure and its basically everything i could ever want.   
TT: Frolicking around some weird ass planet half naked, having kinky ponytail sex and participating in creepy, space furry rituals all the time?   
GT: Precisely! 

You chuckle to yourself, shaking your head. You glance at the clock and realize that it’s 1:15, and you have no reason to have your shades on anymore tonight. You are alone, and you don’t have anyone to impress. Well, in person, at least. You definitely have to impress Jake, but you can be one charming motherfucker over messaging. Okay, no you can’t, but you like to think you can be. You slide them off and set them next to your laptop.

You don’t really know what you’re getting yourself into, if you’re being honest with yourself, and the idea of not being in full control of your emotions scares the living shit out of you. Not that you ever truly are, but now it’s different. Your heart beats mad fast when you wake up in the morning and see that Jake has messaged you. You feel your face heat up when he teases and pokes fun at you. You itch to talk with him if you haven’t for certain amounts of times. You’re obsessed with impressing him and making him smile. You think you might be in love. But it’s way too soon to say that, and you’ve only met with him in person once.

You want to know more about him. The things that make him laugh, the things that make him cry. His favorite things to do, his least favorite things to do. His favorite color, animal, song, book. You want to have the same affect on him that he has on you.

GT: Are you still there old bean??   
TT: Yeah, I’m here.  
TT: Do you wanna play a game?

You wait for Jake’s reply, taking a sip of your Fanta.

GT: Im always up for a good game!   
GT: What would you like to play?   
TT: A sort of twenty questions, but the limit isn’t twenty.  
TT: We can just ask each other shit.  
TT: Get to know each other better.

Jake takes a moment to reply, and you tap your fingers against your desk. You hope that isn’t too forward or weird.

GT: I think thats a fantastic idea!  
GT: Would you like to kick it off? Or shall I?  
TT: It doesn’t matter to me.  
GT: All right. Ill start.  
GT: Whats your favorite color?  
TT: What a lame question.  
TT: But orange.  
GT: Devil fucking dickens cut me some slack!  
GT: You didnt give me much time to think of many interesting questions.  
TT: Yeah, you’re right.  
TT: Okay, what’s your favorite kind of music?  
GT: Hmm...thats a tricky one.  
GT: I like all music but country and most rap.

Oh fuck, he doesn’t like rap. That strikes you deep.

GT: But i really like techno music and swing music.  
GT: Its kind of hard for me to decide between the two.  
TT: Have you heard of electro swing?  
GT: Have i heard of what now??  
TT: Jesus.  
TT: You haven’t lived.  
TT: Hold on.

You open another tab in your browser to YouTube. You type in the name of the first electro swing song that pops into your head and paste the link into the chat with Jake.

TT: There.  
TT: Listen to that. I think it’s right up your alley.

You and Jake talk for hours after this. He asks you to show him more of the music that you like, which you happily oblige to. Like your brother, you are very confident that your taste in music is fucking rad. So is the music that you make, yourself. Not to toot your own horn. You show some of your own work to Jake, and of course he freaks out and says it’s the greatest thing he’s ever heard.

You show him more electro swing, and he announces that it’s his new favorite kind of music. You ask him more questions about himself; random things. Where does he want to live when he grows up? Is he a dog or cat person? Does he prefer hoodies or tee-shirts? Any information you can get your hands on to further grasp and understand Jake’s personality is valuable to you.

He seems genuinely interested in learning about you, as well, asking you all about the things you love and your aspirations in life. You aren’t a very emotional person, so when he asks you the deep questions that require the person to delve into the darker parts of their mind are a bit harder for you to answer. Meanwhile, Jake is the definition of an emotional person, pouring his heart out into the chat almost every time you ask him something even semi-deep. You don’t mind reading through the things he has to say. Talking to Jake has become your absolute favorite pastime.

The two of you talk for another four hours or so, until the two of you can barely keep your eyes open let alone hold a conversation. Luckily, you don’t have classes today.

GT: I should probably turn in.  
GT: I have classes in the afternoon tomorrow.  
TT: I should, too.  
TT: Goodnight, Jake.  
GT: Goodnight dirk.  
GT: Oh and dirk?

You’re about to turn your laptop off and collapse into bed when you see his most recent message. You stare at the screen, debating what he might have to say.

TT: Yeah?  
GT: Ive really loved talking to you these past weeks.  
GT: Maybe we could meet up again soon?  
GT: Goodnight.

\-- golgothasTerror  [GT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified  [TT]  at 5:05 --

You shut your laptop and wonder to yourself if that actually just happened. It was completely innocent, and probably totally platonic. But it still made you feel that gross, uncool, giddy feeling as you made your way into your bathroom to take a shower.

You undress and turn the water on, stepping under it with a soft sigh. The warm water runs down your body, causing you to shudder. You stand under it for a while, allowing your body to relax.

You climb into your bed a few minutes later sporting your favorite MLP tee shirt and some boxers. You fall asleep hugging onto your pillow, smiling to yourself at the thought of Jake and his shitty taste in movies and the way he got so excited over the most simplistic of things.

_Ive really loved talking to you these past weeks._

You really hope he feels the way you do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a filler chapter until the fun stuff happens but yaaaay things are developinggg
> 
> Also, holy FUCK this has been up for such a short amount of time and its already got so much attention. Thank you all for your kind comments about it!! I really appreciate it, its what helps motivate me to write more.
> 
> Anyways a huge thank you to fluffytheasianpanda on tumblr for helping me format the pesterlogs <3
> 
> As always remember you can contact me to talk one on one through my tumblr which is in my ao3 bio!!
> 
> THANKS!


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been forever since ive updated this i know but i prOMISE i havent abandoned this project. Ive had the worst writers block + highschool so im surprised i managed to pull this shit out of my ass. This chapter is from daves POV and its really emo so be prepared. I dont know when ill update this again but it wILL happen.
> 
> ALSO. I know that in chapter 2 i said that dave had to leave karkat in texas but im changing that because im sloppy as fuck so forget abt what i said before,
> 
> As always, I hope you all enjoy it! If you have any questions/comments/just wanna chat, remember to leave a comment and/or contact me on twitter or tumblr! The links are in my ao3 bio.

_'Cause you know that I can't trust myself with my three A.M. shadow_   
_I'd rather fuel a fantasy than deal with this alone_

* * *

 

Your name is Dave Strider, and you’re thoroughly convinced that you don’t need to find your soulmate.

In your freshman year, after you and Dirk moved to New York from Texas, you met Karkat Vantas and fell completely head over heels for him. It was pretty fucking pathetic and embarrassing in all honesty. It was like the Titanic or some shit, he was like the metaphorical Rose to your metaphorical Jack.

Okay, the situation wasn’t _that_ desperate. No one was dying and there weren’t any gigantic ships crashing into icebergs, and you and he weren’t stuck on a door in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean that totally had room for two people but the writers had to do something dramatic and kill one of you off. (The Titanic fucking sucked.)

Basically, you’re in love with him. The two of you ended up getting together at the beginning of sophomore year, after months of your pestering him. You’ve been with him ever since, and you couldn’t be happier. The only catch: he’s not your soulmate, and you aren’t his. Because of this, Karkat is apprehensive to stay with you forever, despite how in love he says he is with you. (And you _know_ he is. He’s promised you.)

You, on the other hand, can’t care less about seeing color or not, as long as you’re with Karkat. The last few months have been unfortunately a bit rough due to Karkat’s hesitation and your utter infatuation that so eloquently clash against each other like, well, the Titanic against that iceberg.

You usually aren’t the optimistic one when it comes to situations. Usually, the second shit starts hitting the fan, all you can do is sit back, mope around and turn it on oscillate. But you’ll sure as fuck be optimistic when it comes to Karkat, because he’s all you really have to be optimistic for. He’s all you really have in general; besides your brother, of course. But you aren’t in love with your brother or some weird shit, so Karkat is a different story.

You’re waiting in front of your school. It’s windy and cold  as hell, like it is every Autumn in New York. That’s thing you surprisingly miss about Texas: the heat. Usually, people can’t stand it, but you’d grown used to it. The constant need for fans and ice cold water was what was familiar to you, as opposed to the randomly sometimes-the-fucking-arctic and sometimes-satan’s-asshole weather of the East Coast.

You’re waiting for your boyfriend, who is five minutes late. You know this because you’ve been obsessively looking down at your phone, leaning against the brick wall with your hands shoved into your pockets. You wouldn’t wait in the cold where it feels Jack Frost is trying to give you a blowjob for just anyone, so Karkat better be fuckin’ thankful and know that you love him.

You rock back and forth on your heels, whistling quietly as you watch fellow students hurry out of class and the fuck out of the place for the weekend. You look down at your phone. Seven minutes. Part of you fears that he’s blowing you off, but the other part knows he wouldn’t do that to you.

You feel relief when you see his black mop of hair peek up from the crowd of the student body, and a smile grows across your lips. Once he’s at your side, you grin and slide your arm around your boyfriend’s shoulders. “‘Sup, Karkles? It took you long enough.”

“Oh, eat a dick, Strider.” Karkat rolls his eyes, but leans into you anyways. “I was caught up in bio.”

You give him a fake gasp and your eyes widen in mock horror, however the effect is lost behind your dark shades. “You’re cheating on me with bio? How _dare_ you?!”

Karkat snorted. “I totally am. Bio is hotter, and isn’t as much of a smart ass,” He smirks. “And, Bio is a better fuck.”  
You move away from Karkat and keel over in mock pain, holding your stomach. “Fuck, Karkat, you wound me deep!”

Karkat laughs and cups your cheeks, standing up on the tips of his toes to press his lips against your’s. Your arms quickly move to loop around his waist, eyes closing slowly. Karkat’s lips are always so soft, and he tastes like cherry lip balm.

You pull away after a few minutes, your eyes opening lazily to see Karkat’s dark, freckled cheeks flushed, his lips still parted, looking like he wants more. You know he wants more, and it sends chills up and down your spine.

“Can Bio do that?” You ask, your lips still brushing against Karkat’s.

He hums softly and shakes his head. “No, fuck Bio. I’m breaking up with Bio.”

“Good,” You chuckle softly, sliding your hands into his back pockets.

Karkat’s eyes widen, and he jumps a bit, his face twisting into a glare. “Dave! We’re in fucking public. Can’t you save it?”  
“Forgive me for appreciating my boyfriend’s hot bod,” You roll your eyes, moving your hands and shoving them into your own pockets. “And letting everyone know that his hot bod is mine.”

Karkat crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, something he always did when he was flustered. “Yeah, okay, whatever. What do you want to do, anyways? I’m skipping a movie with Eridan for this. Even though I hate Eridan. He’s a douche. It’s still a good movie.”

“I was unaware that I was interrupting dates with Eridan,” You shoot back, a bit of hostility edging into your mind, but you still maintain your joking demeanor. “Anyways, I was thinking we could grab some coffee, maybe go back to my place,” You shrug nonchalantly before smirking and wiggling your eyebrows suggestively. “And, the best part? Dirk has classes until late tonight, so we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

Karkat rolls his eyes again. (He rolls his eyes a lot.) “Easy, Tiger,” He says, walking towards the exit of the campus, in the direction of the coffee shop the two of you usually go to. You follow him. “Coffee sounds good.” He says simply.

You frown, walking behind him. You have to admit, you’re a little irritated. Karkat has been way grumpier than usual: which is _really fucking grumpy_. He’s seemed so uninterested in spending time with you, always making random plans and blowing you off after you spend so much time and energy on making him happy. You’re sure it’s just some unfortunate phase, however, so you don’t get too worked up. You’re still a bit nervous, though. He’s gone through random fits of grump levels, but it’s bad this time. Oh well. You love him, and he loves you, so you’ll ignore it.

He glances at you from over his shoulder before sighing softly, looking ahead again. “You’re mumbling again.”

“Fuck, I am?” You internally curse yourself. Ever since you can remember, you’ve had an irritating habit of mumbling and rambling under your breath. While you’re pouring your morning coffee, while you’re driving, doodling, during class-which sometimes gets you into trouble. You thought you were getting better about it, but recently it’s only been getting worse. Dirk has been trying to help you with it, pointing it out whenever he catches it. He’s even tried squirting you with water, but that only annoyed you, so that idea was tossed.

Karkat simply nods. “You’ve gotta work on that.”

You eye the back of his head. “I’ve been trying. Shit’s not easy, Karkat.”

He shrugs, and doesn’t reply. You sigh almost inaudibly, the familiar feeling of dread pooling in your stomach again. You try your best to swallow the lump in your throat as the two of you finally start nearing the coffee shop. You take Karkat’s hand and he tenses for a moment before he relaxes. Calm the fuck down, Dave, you tell yourself. You’re thinking too far into things; over-analyzing, like always.

You lead your boyfriend into the shop and sigh happily once you’re in the warm building, sheltered from the cold, autumn day. Karkat leans into you as you order for yourself and for him (you’ve been doing it for so long you’ve memorized it) and you feel yourself begin to relax.

Once your drinks are handed to you, you lead him to a table in the corner of the cafe. You slide into your seat, and he sits in the seat across from you.

Karkat is quiet, quieter than usually. Most of the time, he’s talking your ear off, telling you all about how annoying Nepeta from Algebra 2 is, or how creepy Gamzee from English is. Today, he’s stony silent. It’s freaking you out.

He’s looking down at his drink, tapping his fingers against the cup. He’s looking up at the pictures on the café’s walls. He’s looking out the windows at the busy street. He’s looking at the lights hanging from the ceiling. He’s looking at his hands. He’s looking at your hands.

He’s looking everywhere but at your eyes.

You want to speak, you want to ask him what’s going on. But Striders never make the first move, and you’re too afraid to utter a word.

“Dave?” Karkat asks softly. He’s still not looking at you.

You feel like you’re in the Twilight Zone, or some fucked up parallel universe in outer space. You feel lightheaded. You can feel yourself floating up into the stars. Maybe you’ll get sucked up into a black hole, ripped apart like a flimsy rubber band, bursting into a billion unfortunate molecules. Maybe then you’ll be numb.

“You know what’s fucked up?” You say suddenly, pretending you didn’t hear Karkat.

He looks up at you confusedly. He opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

“I feel kinda bad for stars that are in supernovas,” You blurt out. Karkat raises an eyebrow.

“Dave? Wh-”

“Don’t you think it’s kinda fucked up?” You’re doing what you do best. Talking. You’re too afraid to hear what Karkat is gonna say, you’re too afraid to face the music. You’re too afraid to let Karkat know how much you’re actually hurting. Striders don’t show weakness. “These stars just get super fuckin’ old and just die. They live out this entire legacy as a fucking star, and then just die.”

“Dave, l-”

“They implode into themselves, and then they’re just forgotten. They become black holes, totally devoid of light, unlike how they were before. They turn into Star Graveyards. Do you think the stars’ ghosts wander outer space? Trying to find their light again?”

“Dave,” Karkat says this sternly, and you bite your lower lip with a soft sigh.

“Yeah?”

Karkat meets your eyes now, and you feel the air threaten to leave your lungs.

He looks sad, desperate. His dark eyes are sunken in, like always. His skin is pale and soft. You’ve run your fingers along his cheeks, his lips, his jaw, so many times you’ve memorized every blemish, every hollow, every dip. You study his soft features like you’ve never seen them before, because you know you’re gonna lose them.

Karkat doesn’t talk for a moment, his jaw moving side to side. He looked like he was searching for the right words to speak.

“I met him.”

The world implodes. You’re caught in your own personal supernova, collapsing on yourself, ripping apart by every force in space. You’ll be no more, you’ll be forgotten. You’ll be a ghost.

You sit back in your chair, pretending like you don’t feel like you want to curl up and die. Fortunately, you’re good at that by now.

“Ah.” Is all you say.

He doesn’t speak.

You don’t speak.

He doesn’t speak.

You don’t speak.

He speaks.

“I don’t love you anymore, Dave.”

You’re wishing he didn’t speak.

The words pierce you like swords, one for each word in a different part of your body. Or all six are in your heart, twisting and pushing. You’re being picked apart like it’s some sick, fucked up game. Like you’re a high school biology experiment. You clench your jaw. You’re not going to cry. You refuse to cry.

Karkat is looking at you questioningly. You simply stand up and grab your drink, turning to walk out the door. “Goodbye, Karkat.” You say over your shoulder. You start walking, the trek to the exit feeling infinite, never-ending.

You stop when you hear his voice, but you don’t turn to look at him again.

“Dave?” Karkat says quickly, and you see a familiar sliver of hope light the darkness. It’s quickly covered by the fog again.

“Your eyes are red.” He says.

You can’t move, you feel like you’re stuck in quicksand. But you have to. You have to get out of there. You’re in outer space, and there’s no oxygen, and you have no helmet.

You start walking again, but the outside is just as suffocating as the cafe.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this when my friend Cole and I were freaking out over troye sivan and this waS BORN
> 
> anyways if you wanna keep up with my plans for this fic my tumblr is dirkenstocks and my twitter is in my bio on my ao3 profile
> 
> im not really sure how long itll be until this updates soooo bare w me


End file.
